


For You

by khalisey



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heavy Angst, Prostitution, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey
Summary: Ripley never meant to fall in love with the man she rents a room from every night to see her clients.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t exactly what I’m used to writing about for Negan - plus it turned out a little darker than I was expecting but I hope you like nonetheless. Please heed the warnings as they may be triggering to some readers. Gonna be posting this in two parts as what I have already is incredibly long and could be deemed overwhelming, so for now - enjoy the first part. **While likes give me butterflies, I live for feedback.**

Striking up a friendship with the guy who owns the motel I screw most of my clients in was never part of the plan. I knew he knew what I do for a living but somehow once he cottoned onto my career - if I can even fucking call it that - he still treats me with the same respect he had before. Despite how cheap it makes me feel while some old freak is calling me Mommy as I fuck his saggy ass till it’s black and blue, the heartfelt smile Negan always greets me with makes me feel like I’m stepping into the motherfucking Ritz. 

He never looks at me like a hooker even when I’m dressed in my best dress - my perky tits high under my chin and ass bouncing around like the ripest peach - he looks at me like I’m just anyone else, asking about my day as I pay for the night in pure crisp $50s, my fingers sticky from the hand job I gave the John in the back of the cab on the way here. I prefer the 5 star hotels with their marble bathrooms and mirrored ceilings but usually, the men I find myself screwing have wives, families, reputations to uphold - they can’t be seen waltzing into a swanky hotel with a hooker on their arm, no matter how fucking glamorous I look.

Coming here became a need. I could pick any motel in the city but I always chose Negan’s even if it is out in the sticks. It’s like another home. Knowing he is only a few doors away makes me feel safe. He unconsciously protects me from the scumbags and wannabe serial killers and I could never repay for him that for that level of security. Well I could but it wouldn’t involve him giving me money. 

* * *

I hand over the cash to pay for my usual room, my fingers grazing his delicately. I can tell he's not himself. I could tell the second I stepped into the office, the air thick with something other than familiarity. It's so alien, I feel like I've never been here before. He's off with me and I can't figure out why. I try to engage him in conversation but I may as well speak to the fucking wall behind him. I give up as I watch him slide the money into his till and hand me my key all without a word. The number 3 glares back at me like an all-seeing eye but somehow looking at the single digit comforts me in the way normally Negan does.

"Thanks." I utter slipping the key into my jacket pocket. I'm about to leave when his voice stops me dead.

_"You're too good for this life."_

I shrug them off like a cold shiver but they linger across my conscience. I can't bring myself to turn back, instead heading for the door desperate for the hot night air to warm me back up. 

The guy whose arm is draped around me is just another client, just another nobody I can put Negan’s face to so I can pretend to enjoy his attempts at fucking a little better. I’ve been doing it for weeks and it seems to be working. Anything to help take my mind off the degradation boiling inside me with every dick that comes my way.

At first I loved it. I started by fucking the boys in the fraternity who lived across the street from me as a bit of fun - enjoying the bountiful threesomes they had me engaging in and the occasional orgy but soon I fell into debt after dropping out of college and then losing my job. Eventually I began to offer my “services” in exchange for the money their parents gave them for emergencies. It wasn’t exactly thrilling whoring myself out but I put whatever I had to in my mouth just so I could afford to eat that night. 

Then it became a profession. I never sought another day job after that; the amount of cash I’d sit on at the end of each week I was able to move away and rent the most beautiful apartment. I managed to build a client base through one of the boys’ fathers who happened to catch me deep throating his son one night and after that I never looked back. And my desire for money led me here. To Negan’s motel. 

He kisses down my neck as I slot the key into the lock, his wet sloppy sucks doing nothing to ignite a thing inside me. I’m practically numb to it. Nothing gets me going anymore - except for the dream where I go home to Negan every night and let him fuck me six ways from Sunday. 

The door swings open and he steps inside with a huge fucking smile on his face. He’s an attractive guy - a real Joel McHale look about him which initially had my pussy all in a flutter the first time I laid eyes on him but I know what this asshole is into and the thought makes my stomach roll. I’m about to follow him knowing just what fucked up depravity is about to come my way when I notice Negan outside his office, concern smothered across his face. 

“Are you okay?” He must be able to tell I’m not. 

Shit, is it that obvious? 

I nod a little too quickly. I just want to get this shit over with, pocket my earnings and crash for the night in whatever questionable patch of wetness that ends up on the mattress.   


“I’m fine.” I mouth back before I disappear from view, closing the door firm behind me.

Somehow, I can't get his words out of my brain even as I undress, a horrible unease settling in the pit of my stomach while my horny client gropes at my body and I shut my mind off before he begins to get what he paid for. 

* * *

The first time I saw her, my jaw almost hit the fuckin' floor. I initially thought she was lost or her car had broken down - I never saw the likes of women like her strolling through the door of my office, especially in something so... fuckin' sensational. A red dress that let nothing to the imagination, I could've nutted in my pants at the sight of her but being the suave businessman I fool myself into thinking I am, I kept my perverted thoughts to myself as she asked for a room for the night. 

_"Oh darlin', I'd give you more than a fuckin' room."_

It wasn't until she greeted some old Grandpa into her room half hour later, I realised exactly why she was here. 

It never bothered me. Even when I had to clean the soggy sheets the next day. As long as she paid for the room, she could use it for whatever she liked. Well, maybe except to fuckin' butcher someone but after a while, I became less concerned with her being the murderer and more about being the victim. She thinks I never noticed the bruises around her throat or the shiny tints to her cheek as she slid me back my room key the next morning. I noticed everything. The more we got to know each other, the more I wanted to protect and shield her from these monsters who preyed on her every night. 

Life had hardened her almost to the point of no return, with little hope of bringing her back from her twisted outlook on the world. She is right - it is an ugly fuckin' place but I wanted to show her not everyone was as crooked or deceitful as she believed them to be. I took it upon myself to treat her better than even my ex-wife. She deserved the respect that nobody else gave her. She deserved to be human.

I watch as she leaves my office, my eyes lingering a little too long on her stunning ass. I don't want to look at her like an object but the crux of the matter is, I'm a fuckin' guy. I'm not controlled by my conventional brain but the one straining inside my pants. 

"You're too good for this life." I mutter before my mouth has chance to register what's coming out of it. 

She doesn't turn to face me or ask what I mean. Part of me doesn't want her to. I don't think she'd appreciate the can of worms that would almost certainly open if she did. I kick myself for the way I ignored her but from the moment she stepped inside, dread pooled around me like a puddle. I didn't like the way the guy outside waiting for her was watching us. I've seen the sick fuck here once before and I shit you not, I almost fuckin' cried when I saw the state of her the next day. I wanted to pummel the cunt and when I saw him loitering in the parking lot, my blood boiled. I was about ready to use one of my own rooms as a crime scene. 

I can't keep pretending I'm fine with her being treated this way because I'm fuckin' not. It pisses me off to the point I almost break a window as I close it before stepping outside to have a sneaky cigarette. I quit years ago but knowing she's in there having God knows what inflicted on her does nothing for my dodgy blood pressure. I dare myself to glance across at Room 3 and that's when I notice her outside the room, a look of pure anguish sitting across her face. I catch her eye, her head turning at the sight of me.

"Are you okay?" I mouth silently to her. She looks fuckin' terrified.

She nods a little over-enthusiastically. I know she's trying to convince me she's got a handle on this but the horror pinching at her cheeks tells a different fuckin' story. I swallow the lump almost choking me as I watch her lips move in response to my question.

"I'm fine." 

Bullshit.

My eyes follow her as she steps into the room with trepidation before the door finally clicks shut behind her, leaving me shivering from the dread festering in my chest.

It's late when I'm about to close up shop and sit in my car to wait for the prick to leave - just to put my mind at ease that she's safe - when I hear her scream. Not your usually pathetic yelp when you stand on a fuckin' plug but a scream so piercing and soul-shattering, I think my balls jump back up into my body in fright. I drop my car keys to the floor and run flat out across the parking lot.

I'm gonna tear that motherfucker limb from motherfuckin' limb.

* * *

Negan’s heavy pounds on the door pull me from the darkness. I blink slowly, the surroundings momentarily unfamiliar before I remember exactly why I blacked out. I hear a high pitched disembodied voice shout for him to fuck off as I feel uncomfortable pressure against my rear. I have no strength to fight the sensation, my arms heavy as cement. Hot breath is disgustingly sticky against my cheek, the sweet sickly smell of cheap bourbon invading my nostrils.

“Coco!” Negan’s voice bellows as the sound of wood splintering shakes me from my haze. 

The weight pinning me down dissipates quickly, the bed springing back into shape as they get off and must sprint in the direction of Negan's hollering. The distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh vibrates my ear drums followed by a loud grunt and Negan’s deep hum threatening them with words I can’t quite make out. I attempt to roll onto my side but the sharp pang emanating from my side stops me. I feel Negan’s hands - warm and comforting - on my shoulders, shaking me softly as the room comes harshly into focus. 

“Coco, fucking talk to me. Wake up! Coco-“

“Ugh, god that name. Think I'm gonna throw up.” I protest thickly, my bruised jaw screaming in agony as the words tumble from my lips. 

“Shit, what the fuck happened-“ 

“Snorted too much coke, got carried away.” I try to pull myself up but Negan insists on helping me into a sitting position. He grabs the bed sheet and pulls it around me, covering the zero modesty I have left. Spots of red dot the fabric, bleeding into the cotton like a crimson spider. 

“Carried away? It’s a fuckin’ bloodbath in here.”

I wince shifting position, the throb in my nethers unpleasant. I usually twinged after my meetings with that Joel looking motherfucker but this is entering a whole new level of sore. 

“Does he pay to beat the living shit out of you?” The bed dips as Negan sits down next to me. My eyes drawn to the size of his hands placed on his knee, I want to feel them on me despite the pain I'm in.

I shrug my shoulders almost nonchalantly. “He likes it rough but I guess he didn’t like it when I said no.” I lift the sheet and wipe against my nostrils, a line of claret staining the material as I pull it away, a wave of unfathomable pain exploding across my face. Fucker broke my fucking nose. 

“You need to fuckin' quit. You’re better than this.”

“You don’t know shit about me Negan.”

“I know that prick was gonna fuckin’ rape you before I broke down the fuckin’ door.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” I mutter.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? He’s done this before?” He stands up, his face redder than my blood staining his crisp white sheets.

“Him, other clients, sometimes assholes who see me in a bar, notice the way I dress and think I’m fair game just because I’m a hooker.”

He rubs down his beard, the look in his eyes one of disrepute. Not for himself but for me. He’s disgraced with me. I bite down on my already busted lip to try and stave off the tears threatening to fall. 

“I think you should find a new motel.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep doing this Rip.” Rip. Ripley. I wish I never fucking told him my real name. I shoulda kept to Coco and left it at that. Telling him my Pop named me after a character from his favourite movie was one of my greatest mistakes - showing him a part of my vulnerability I tried so hard to suppress. “I can’t sit in my fuckin’ office twiddlin' my fuckin' thumbs while you’re in here letting these degenerate fucks do whatever they fuckin’ well please.”

“It’s my job.”

“It doesn’t have to be. You have fuckin’ choices y’know?” He sits back down next to me and I can tell from the angle of his arm he's reluctant to put it round me. I want to tell him to but I bottle it.

“I did have choices. I made them and now I’m paying for them okay?” 

Negan sighs heavily, his eyes wandering over my face. No doubt abhorred at the mess it feels it is. My skin feels tight, the dried blood around my nose cracking as I attempt to ascertain the damage the cretin has done. Yep, definitely a broken nose. Hm and maybe a fractured cheek. Delightful. 

“Want me to take you to the ER?” He asks.

“No,” I shake my head, “They ask too many questions.” 

I can tell by the look on his face that he’s horrified by my lackadaisical attitude to my beating. The shock of it used to blind me but now sickeningly, I’m accustomed to it.

“Rip,” he breathes out deeply, “come on, you’re black and fuckin’ blue. Please, you gotta let someone take a fuckin’ look at you. How about I call for an EMT?” 

I screw up my nose in protest and instantly regret it; the scorching pain burning through my sinuses, across my cheeks and up into my skull almost has me fainting where I sit but Negan is there to catch me, his hands on my shoulders keeping me upright. 

“Fuck you, I’m calling 911.”

I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for days. I know he’s right, I need to be seen. This broken nose isn’t going to set itself. I just hate their prying eyes, in depth questions I personally believe they don't need to fucking know the answers to and then judging me for my bad life decisions when I do respond in the most honest and depraved way I can think of. There is just no easy way to tell someone the reason you need stitches is because your client's cock ring got caught and ripped you open from ass to pussy.

“Okay.” I reply meekly.

Negan nods and exits the room quickly leaving me alone. I allow myself a few minutes to cry - somehow letting him see me this broken reduces me to tears I would never normally shed. I compose myself as he returns pocketing his cell. 

“They’ll be here in 30.”

“Thank you.” 

He starts to head back out the door. I don’t whether he’s just stepping outside for some air or going to check on the office but I really don’t want to be alone. 

“Negan?” 

“Yeah?” He turns instantly.

“Ca-can you stay with me?” I ask quietly clutching tight at the bed sheet around me. I feel my skin flush from embarrassment at this level of weakness. Normally I’d be dying for him to fuck me over the bed like the sensational whore I am but I just want him to hold me. Envelope me in those long arms of his, protect me from the shit storm surrounding me. 

He shuts the door without a sound before sitting back down next to me. I feel his arm curl round my shoulder and with great difficultly, I shift my position bringing my legs up underneath me as I lay my head on his knee. I feel him hesitate for a second before he places his hand on my arm, the heat from his touch warming my cold skin. I close my eyes for a moment and despite the pain ravaging my body, I feel nothing but peace as I pass out in his lap, his fingers stroking my matted hair. 

* * *

I respected Negan’s wishes and stayed away from the motel. There was another the opposite side of town which I used before I’d come across his and decided to go back there so he didn’t have to concern himself with my issues. I didn’t like the owner of that place very much - the man and his snooty fucking wife looked down on me but it didn’t stop them hungrily taking my money every night.  
I missed Negan so much it made my chest ache. I debated going back there - to thank him yet again for staying with me while I got fixed up by the EMTs and then spending the night with me to make sure I survived the night. I had never experienced that kind of selflessness before and it hurt. I cried against him after they left, breaking down the last piece of wall I still had built between us. The only person I ever let see this side of me was my Pop and he was long gone now. 

I feel deflated as I saunter up to the front desk, the click of my heels pissing me off already. I just want to be at home stuffing my face with junk food in my sweats but here I am, ready for another night with another client. My face is finally back to its normal shade - with the help of some pretty thick foundation and some of the internal injuries I sustained are just a distant memory. But the emotional trauma is still raw in my chest along with the constant, dull burn of my cracked but slowly healing ribs.

I tell the clerk the first name I have for my client, doubtful it’s his real one and ask if he’s arrived. Fuck, I’m early. I make my excuses and leave, noticing the bar open to my right. Suppose it won't hurt to have a Dom Perignon or two while I wait.

Five later and I feel a little woozy. Great idea Rip. Get drunk while you're still high on pain meds and your mental stability teeters on the edge of sane why don't you? Maybe I should go back the front desk to find out where he’s got to. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being stood up tonight. The last thing I’m in the mood for is a fuck but a girl’s gotta make rent. Especially as I burned through a hefty chunk of my 'savings' while I was recovering. It's amazing what bullshit you end up buying when you're bed-bound and bored out of your mind.

“Ri-Coco?” Fuck. Please no.

I swallow my sudden nausea before slowly spinning round on my seat. Negan stands before me dressed all in black and it’s certainly worlds away from his usual white t-shirt and grey pants combo. He looks fucking gorgeous. Okay, maybe now I could go for a fuck. My cunt is practically dripping at the sight of him.

“Negan, hey.” I slur glancing past him to the pretty blonde on his arm and jealousy burns my veins. Anger bubbles in my chest and I do my best to swallow it down before I say something I regret. I need to get a fucking grip. My annoyance is totally unjustified. He doesn’t owe me a damn thing but somehow after that night I felt like something changed between us and not because I was naked and beaten to hell. 

“How are you?” The genuine concern in his voice takes me aback. 

I nod. “I’m... good.” It’s all I can get out before words fail me entirely. Shit, I can't be here. 

Negan eyes me from the feet up, stopping to let his gaze wander a little too long on my bare leg peeking out through the slit of my dress. His eyes finally meet mine before he introduces me to what obviously must be his date. Holly. Ugh. She even looks like a Holly. Prim, proper and probably vanilla as shit in bed. I bet she loves it missionary. 

I bare my teeth giving her my best smile as I down the last of my champagne and quickly order another. I hear him speak to her quietly, the dull hum of his voice vibrating through me while watching out of the corner of my eye as she goes to find a table in the furthest corner with the dimmest lighting. Oh honey, you hoping to get felt up in this glitzy hotel bar are we? Maybe you’re not so boring after all. However I find myself staring at her magnificent ass and I don’t blame him for wanting to tap that but my envy for the woman overshadows any kind of lingering sexual thoughts I have about fucking her while he watches. You can take the woman out of the hooker but you can never take the hooker out of the woman. 

The bartender brings me my refill and I start to guzzle on it fast. Negan steps closer to the bar and orders before turning his attention to me. Fuck, I'd ride that face for hours. And I'd do it for fucking free.

“Rip, what are you doing here?” 

“Working, duh.” I take another long sip, the bubbles shooting up my nose.

“You still want to fuck strangers for a living after what happened to you?” 

“I don’t _want_ to but I got bills to pay.” 

He sighs so deeply, I feel the air he exhales brush over my bare arm. “So you’d rather risk your life than go without food, fuckin' champagne?” His eyes fall to my half empty glass dangling between my fingers.  

I almost throw the damn thing in his face but I refuse to waste $150 when I can drink it instead. I take a swallow gulp allowing the bitter aftertaste to hit the back of my throat before placing the glass on the bar, swirling my fingertips around the rim lethargically. I can't even look at him. I stare straight ahead, my focus on a particularly tasty looking bottle of bourbon.

“Look I don’t taint your motel any more okay so you can stop pretending like you care what happens to me. I’m fine.” I down the remainder of the alcohol with a quick tilt of my head and set the glass back onto the bar. I stand quickly grabbing my clutch from the seat next to me. I feel his hand grip my wrist tight. 

“Despite what you fuckin’ think you know about me, I care about you a whole fuckin’ lot.” His voice is low and deep. I’ve pissed him off. Good. Welcome to my club.

“Coco?” 

We both turn at the sound of my name. Shit, this must be my guy. 

“Ah, Phillip is it?” I ask tugging my wrist free from Negan’s grip while the man nods shyly. He reminds me a little of the dude who played Spiderman but I couldn't tell you which one - I had been too busy getting fucked by one of my frat boys to concentrate that closely. I’m about to fling myself at him before Negan steps between us holding a wad of cash. 

“I’m sorry you wasted your time coming here man but she’s not in a good place tonight. Here’s $400 bucks, go find yourself another broad on me okay?”

Spiderman stutters before slowly taking Negan’s money and edges backwards out of the bar, his eyes on us the whole time probably worried we’re gonna jump him. 

I step right up into Negan’s face, fury heating my cheeks. I barely reach his shoulders but I refuse to back off.

“Thanks, you just fucking cost me $200 bucks.” I spit, pure venom in my words.

“Rather you lose money than your fuckin’ life.” He stares me down and I find myself shrinking back into my shoes.

“What is your issue with me doing what I do huh?”

“Rip, I get it. This is your choice, you’ve made that quite fuckin’ clear but I just,” He pauses before taking the sentence in another direction, “the only issue I have is you’re gonna get yourself killed one day and-“ 

“And?”

“It’d destroy me that I wasn’t there to fuckin’ protect you.” 

“Oh.”

I’m glad for the ambient music floating around the room cutting into the awkward silence building between us. What do I fucking say to that? Nobody has ever given a shit about me before. He can't start now.

“Please Ripley, do me a favour okay?” Negan says quietly, the sincerity in his tone making my eyes prickle with tears. I push myself up onto my tiptoes and place my hand delicately against his chest letting my lips lightly graze his cheek. Let the slut in me do what she does best. Seduce. 

“Want me on my back or my knees?” I whisper softly edging my head backwards till our eyes meet and the depth in which Negan gazes back at me almost takes my fucking breath away. He sighs heavily but it’s not out of frustration. I can't tell what it is. Pity? Humiliation?

“Just go home and get some rest.” 

My hand falls to my side while I drop to my feet and let a long breath whistle out from between my lips. With one last look at him - one I can savour as I pleasure myself later, I stride confidently from the bar with no intention of going home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripley never meant to fall in love with the man she rents a room from every night to see her clients.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so overwhelmed by the amazing response to the first part of this story - I was super apprehensive but your kind words make my little heart soar so thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please heed the warnings as they may be triggering to some readers.

I make it home in one piece. As I left the bar, I did toy with the idea of finding someone else to score money from but the combination of an aching set of ribs to the fuzzy feeling blurring my head, I just want to sleep. I get my front door open juggling my clutch, keys and cup of coffee I picked up on the way home to try and clear my senses. It works so well that the horrid anguish sitting thick in my belly I'm trying to stifle is back. 

I reprimand myself for pushing Negan away when he only wants to help me but I don't know how to accept it. I've been alone for so many years, I can't fathom on how to possibly depend on someone else. But running into him with his date actually made me feel sick. I want to be her; wined, dined and then back to his apartment for the kind of sex that'd leave me smarting for days. I clench just thinking about his body on top of me, claiming me as I squirt my slick all over him while his name repeats over my lips. Shit, maybe I need to spend some quality time with my vibrator. 

I drop my bag onto the kitchen counter and pour the dregs of coffee down the sink, throwing the empty cup away as a soft knocking rattles the front door in its frame. Tensing up, I sneak slowly to it and take a glance through the peep hole with an air of caution. I swing the door open with a heavy audible sigh.

"What are you-no, wait fuck that. How do you know where I live?"

"I followed you."

"Cause that's not creepy in the slightest." My entire body sags from the weight of the fear escaping me. The relief that I don't have to protect myself from my midnight visitor brings me a strange sense of comfort.

I step back leaving the door open to allow Negan to enter, the sound of the latch clicking shut meeting my ears.

"Where's your date?" I ask curiously turning back to face him as I cross my arms over my chest.

"Called her a cab."

"Ah." I do my best to stifle my grin.

"I had to fuckin' make sure you were alright."

"Jesus Negan, fucking drop it. I'm fine." My arms fall to my sides balling up my fists.

"I told you to go fuckin' home and you stroll up to that bar ready to suck some biker dick like nothing ever fuckin' happened."

"What do you expect me to do? Fucking cry about it?"

"Yes!" He bellows, his voice echoing through me like a earthquake tremor.

"Sorry to disappoint but I won't. I can't. I will not paint myself out as a victim to score some sympathy points okay?"

"I admire the shit out of you for not letting this define you but all of those men have taken advantage of you Rip, can't you fuckin' see that?"

"It's my body they've violated, I don't have to see it. I feel it every fucking day."

He strides closer, the vein in his neck close to popping. Even when he's mad he's still gorgeous as shit and it's turning me on. Really not the time Rip.

"But you're still out there risking your fuckin' life for these cocksuckers? Just so they can have some easy pussy."

"Fuck you!" I slap him hard. His fingers curl round my wrist holding my arm aloft as my palm screams out in agony from the connection it makes with his jaw.

"Don't ever do that again." He mutters calmly. Somehow the lack of volume unnerves me more than if he'd shouted in my face.

"Don't ever call me easy pussy." 

Negan frees my wrist and I step backwards massaging my throbbing palm.

"That's not what I fuckin' meant."

"It's cool. To you, I'm just some slut who sleeps around."

"Rip-"

"I might be a whore but I sure as hell ain't easy. I have morals too y'know."

"Yet the man who would have slit your fuckin' throat had I not fuckin' beat his ass is still out there free to do whatever the fuck he wants. Do you not want to see him pay for what he fuckin' did?"

Here we go again. I shrug.

"Do you not give a shit at all?" 

"Look around dude, I have nothing." His eyebrow arches as his gaze scours the room and I can tell he doesn't believe a fucking word. "Sure, this might be a fancy as fuck apartment filled with gorgeous things but none of it means shit to me. This place may as well be fucking empty because that's what it feels like. Why should I give a shit about myself when nobody else does?"

"I fuckin' care!"

I can't control it. My lips are against his before I can stop myself and by that time it's too late. I throw my arms around his thick neck and pull him towards me, the feel of his body this close to mine, my arousal heating my thighs. Negan groans into me, his fingers roaming my back until they settle at my hips and grip tightly. It excites me that I can feel his own arousal pressing firm against my thigh but shame soon follows.

My brain finally starts to engage the situation and I find myself pushing him away hurriedly before I run to the bathroom, sudden tears streaming down my face. I collapse against the door as Negan rushes close behind, his hand clasped around my bicep to stop me from hitting my head against the sink. I slump into the wood, heavy sobs wracking my body as I try in vain to contain them. 

I bring my legs up to my chest and allow the tears to dampen my face to the point where the cool air drying them makes my cheeks sore. Fuck. I told him I wouldn't cry about it and here I am sobbing my guts up. But it's not because of that. As soon as I felt how turned on he was, I couldn't allow myself to push him further. I'm just a whore. Negan would never want me. He knows where I've been, what I've done. All the nights I spent in his motel doing just about every degrading sexual act you can think of. I'm damaged fucking goods.

"Jesus fucking Christ Rip, talk to me." He slides down the wall opposite and mirrors my position, his long legs barely managing to fold against him. 

"I'm sorry," I mumble thickly. Both words feel like glue in my throat.

"What have you gotta be fuckin' sorry for?"

"That. Out there. I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot for thinking that someone like me could ever-" I let out a deep breath, "I don't deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

"Affection, intimacy, love."

"Fucking hell Ripley, you think because of what you do you don't deserve to be loved?"

"Who would ever love me? When they know how dirty I am? This is just my retribution for the path I fucking chose." I sniff hard. I must look real fucking hot right now - mascara probably staining my cheeks, snot dribbling over my lips as I use the back of my hand to wipe it and my tears away. I don't care any more. Negan has seen me beaten halfway to hell - this is nothing in comparison.

I've ruined everything. I should never have kissed him. My heart feels a little lighter knowing he cares but I want to disappear into the ground for the fool I've made of myself. I drop my head to my knees and cry some more. Fuck, I'm pathetic. I can barely get my breath as I feel his body shift and move closer to me. He shimmies towards me on his perfect ass before his hand touches gently against the top of my head. It instantly calms me before I remember why I'm sat here and I begin to cry all over again.

"Rip-"

I look up at the sound of my name as his hand slides down my hair and under my chin. His fingers bring my face up to meet his, his eyes full of sincere concern.

"For someone as dirty as you claim to fuckin' be, you've got the purest fuckin' soul of anyone I've ever met."

I lose it at this point. Tears fall down my cheeks in rivulets, each one multiplying as its twin rolls its way down my face and into my lap. I've never known such kindness but it stings like shit. It hurts that he can still see light in me when all I feel is darkness.

Negan moves even closer, his knees practically under his chin as he attempts to soothe me by gently kissing his way up my arm and his thumb catches my tears before they fall onto my dress. The soft tickle of his beard against my skin confuses me. I'm meant to be emotionally distraught but I find my cunt still reacting to his delicate touch.

Our eyes meet. I can't decide if I wanna throw myself off the roof or at him and let him fuck me right here on my bathroom floor. I close my eyes slowly and take a deep breath to let the feeling subside but it doesn't help. As I open them he's still staring at me, his soft lips still pressed against my elbow.

"Don't look at me." I mumble awkwardly.

"Why not?" 

"Because you got the same damn look in your eyes as every other prick in this town. Like I'm a worthless piece of trash."

He lifts his head as he drops his thumb from my cheek, his face twisted into a slight grimace.

"Hey," I avert his gaze, " _hey_ ," my eyes flicker back up, "if I fuckin' thought you were a worthless piece of trash, would I be here now? Would I have let you keep fuckin' coming back to my motel? Would I have followed you home so I could make sure you were o-fuckin'-kay? Would I have kissed you back if I didn't fuckin' want this too?"

My eyes sting with more tears and they begin to fall before I can stop them. 

"Rip, you're the most beautiful fuckin' thing I've ever seen." 

Negan edges towards me, his lips capturing mine once more. My legs fall open and my arms drop as I slide across the lino and wrap them tight around his neck. He pulls me in so tight, I almost forget how to breathe. The kiss hints of urgency but he takes his time letting his tongue slip across mine softly, each roll accompanied by a gentle groan. I can't remember the last time I was kissed with such fervour and I find myself melting against him. I whimper as he breaks the kiss and pulls me to my feet. 

We both take a second. I'm almost waiting for him to change his mind and leave but his grip around my body just gets tighter. He places another kiss against my lips as we scramble towards my room, items of clothing fluttering into the air as I strip his jacket and t-shirt from him. He stops me before I unbuckle his pants, his hands splayed across my thighs holding my dress bunched around my waist. 

"What's the matter?" I ask frightened.

"You sure about this?"

I nod. 

"Just tell me to stop the fuckin’ second you wanna okay?" His hands slide higher until the tips of his fingers graze the silk of my underwear. I say nothing as he pushes them down my legs. I say nothing as I step out of them while pulling my dress over my head. I say nothing as he falls to his knees in front of me and kisses the light bruises still splattered across my ribs, taking great care not to cause me any pain as his lips smooth over my blemished skin. My entire body trembles as his hand slips between my naked thighs but I still continue to say nothing while his fingers brush through my folds, teasing my clit.

My eyes don't leave his for a second as he trails faint, gentle touches down my stomach till he's level with my pussy and I let out a small groan, his tongue licking its way up my slit whilst my fingers run through his black and silver hair tugging softly at his roots. His hands fall to my knees, each one caressing up my thighs until they reach the curve of my ass. Negan's lips ghost over my skin, leaving a tiny delicate kiss across the apex of my thighs and I blink away small tears at his tenderness. No man has ever touched me with such care and attention, I almost feel like I'm a virgin all over again. 

Negan stands slowly, pressing his lips against mine as he strips himself of his pants and lets them fall into a black fabric puddle at his feet before kicking off his shoes. Wow. He's a fucking glorious sight. We shimmy in unison until we reach my bed and Negan takes what feels like hours to explore every single fucking inch of my body. By the time he's done licking my cunt and I'm screaming his name deliriously, I'm about ready to burst. 

The air in the room is sticky and hot, beads of sweat dotting our skin as we writhe against one another, not in any rush to let this end any sooner than we want it to. I reach for my nightstand and pull out a condom, rolling it onto Negan's dick with professional ease. I suddenly shrink against him with embarrassment. I can't remember the last time I did this with a man who wasn't going to pay me afterwards. 

"You alright?" He sits up, curling a stray strand of hair behind my ear. As quickly as the contempt hits, it dissipates into a hazy fog at the feel of Negan's touch.

"I am now." I smile giving him a deep kiss. He hoists me up over his lap and I slowly ease myself down onto him, the both of us gasping at the sensation. Holy shit. I might fuck men for a living but I dissociate so much when they're screwing me. Turn off. Think about the show I'm binging on Netflix, what to cook for dinner if I decide to go home but remember to make all the best noises at the right times to get them to come quickly and get their sweaty ass off me. This? This feels like all my fucking Christmases and birthdays have come at once.

Legs either side of Negan's waist I rock against him, every movement against my walls alighting nerves I believe are numb or dead. He brings his knees up behind me and I let myself rest against them as I roll my hips slowly on his dick. 

"Shit." He hisses through his teeth as his lips devour mine again, this time his kisses deeper and hungrier. 

His pace never falters or gets faster; choosing to fuck me slow and deep and I'm practically withering against him. He's so caring and attentive compared to my clients who can't wait to plough into me like a jackhammer but Negan takes his time. I feel like he wants to savour this as long as possible which is exactly what I want too. His fingers travel over my body; tracing every blemish, mole and shameful bruise and scratch with his fingertips before replacing them with feather light kisses and the same gentle caress he bestowed me with earlier.

His cock presses against every pressure point inside my pussy as he pulls out before slowly easing his way back in. It's, in a word, fucking magnificent. Okay, that's two. But fuck, I don't think I've ever felt this close to orgasm in years. My vibrator works wonders but it's nothing compared to the feel of this perfect man stretching me wide with his magical fucking dick. He drops his legs from behind me and I get to work, showing him exactly what I can do with my pussy. I don't charge $200 a night for a quick blow job and some tit action - I fucking earn it. My ribs twinge harshly in response to my thoughts, reminding me that I earn it by being a punching bag for those clients who can't throw around their wives and have people ask questions. I'm easy prey. Eyes prickling with tears, I debate with myself to stop. Negan must sense my hesitation as he slows until he's completely still. 

"Hey, you okay?" He asks softly. I shake my head. I don't want to stop but the self-reproach bubbling inside my chest makes it hard to concentrate. I feel his hands slide either side of my neck and pull my head up to meet his gaze. "If you wanna stop just say the fuckin' word." His words are tender. 

"I don't wanna stop Negan. I don't ever wanna stop." I manage to mutter thickly as I shift my hips, feeling his length throb inside me. He smiles wide, sucking up his bottom lip before pulling me forward and presses his mouth to mine, the both of us groaning as his hips shunt upward thrusting deeply.

I bounce on his dick expertly grinding my hips, his pubic bone rubbing against my clit with every slam back down onto him as he lifts his pelvis to meet me halfway. He's so deep I scream out, my fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades helplessly.

He moans against my neck, my name muffled into my skin as his thighs jerk beneath me. God I'm so fucking close; the electricity sparking behind my clit about to short out. I need to come and come hard. I lean back and slide my hand between my thighs, teasing at my clit. Negan lazily smiles, a wonderfully kinky gleam in his eye as he watches me get off on top of him.

"You gonna come for me Rip?" He breathes huskily, grasping at my hips to help control my rhythm. The way he says my name no longer sounds like he's scolding me, but rewarding me for my filthiness. I nod and lick my lips. I allow the moment to unravel above him and let my release flood me so powerfully, my body falls limp against him. Negan calls my name, soon following with four hard and deep thrusts which sends butterflies fluttering into my stomach. 

We fall into a heap on the bed, my heart racing harder than I've felt it before. I lay my head on his chest, letting the tips of my fingers trace through the hair peppering his damp skin while his hand rests softly against the top of my head. He strokes the hair off my face, cool goosebumps raising across my skin. I'm not used to this simple intimacy but it feels exhilarating. It's nice to feel wanted. That I'm not just here to sate his sexual needs but here because Negan wants me to be. 

“Why’d you come here?” The question is out before I can stop it. I hear Negan inhale deeply through his nose before his voice echoes round the room. 

“I just wanna protect you.”

I lift myself up onto my elbow and balance my chin on his ribs as I turn my head to look at him. I kiss at his chest, the clamminess of his skin moistening my lips while Negan continues to stroke my hair behind my hair. The post sex glow reddening his cheeks makes my cunt throb magnificently. Fuck, I just wanna ride him all over again. 

“You already have.”

“Clearly not fuckin' well enough if you’re still doing this shit.”

I sigh heavily. I don’t wanna argue the point any more, I don’t have it in me. I slip my head back down onto his chest and speak away from him. 

“Don’t ruin this moment of normalcy for me.” 

I feel him shift beneath me and he sits up. I have no choice but to do the same. I pull the sheet around me hiding my nakedness. I should never have let this happen. I cuddle the material to my chest trying to let it swathe me enough that I disappear. How could I be so stupid? 

“You can still have normalcy. It’s never too fuckin’ late.”

I spin round and dangle my legs off the side of the bed letting the sheet fall away. I quickly stand and search for anything strewn across the floor that I can redress myself in.

“Of course it’s too late. I can’t do normal. Bore myself with some 9 till 5 bullshit and then go home to my lover who knows nothing of my past and would run a hundred fucking miles in the other direction if they ever found out I got fucked for a living?”

Fuck it, his black shirt will do. I pull it over my head and turn back to face him. It’s sizes too big and hangs past my thighs and elbows. I can tell he likes the sight in front of him; a slight smirk plays on his lips. 

Negan clambers out of bed, slips on his pants and walks over to me. His pants sit so low on his hips, I can see the dark of his hair poking out just above the waistband. It makes my stomach stir knowing exactly what perfect package sits just below it. God, I wanna choke on it so bad. 

He reaches me and places his hands on my shoulders protectively. “Your past doesn’t have to fuckin’ define you. Fine someone who will love and cherish the shit out of you regardless.”

I let out an almost exasperated however amused laugh as I fold my arms across my chest.

“Good one. And where do you propose I find this person?”

His hands rise from my shoulders and cup my face.

“Jesus Rip, do I gotta spell it out for you? I’m right fuckin’ here.”


End file.
